


Uchiha Complex

by itachis-sick-ass-mf-sword (driftershiddenfivehead)



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Confused Nara Shikamaru, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Gets A Hug, Everyone Has Issues, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Gen, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hyuuga Neji Lives, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Minor Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Parody, Past Relationship(s), Teen Angst, Teenage Rebellion, Tsundere Matatabi, Uchiha Clan-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftershiddenfivehead/pseuds/itachis-sick-ass-mf-sword
Summary: Almost 19 years after being pardoned by the Sixth Hokage, Sasuke Uchiha - now 37 - decides that it's finally time for him to stay in the village with his wife and daughter, ending the Journey of Atonement he began as a young adult. Things are looking up until Sasuke's criminal record is quietly expunged, attracting a barrage of lawsuits and child support claims from the 16 children he fathered during his post-war bachelor adventures. A colorful entourage of embittered Uchiha youth make their debut in Konoha, and leading the civil charge is yet another ghost from the past: a young lawyer from Ryūtan City, who happens to be the only son of the infamous Clan Killer, Itachi Uchiha.AKAThe one where Sasuke revives the clan, and the clan revives Sasuke. After they sue him, of course.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Kyuubi | Nine-tails | Kurama & Nibi | Two-tails | Matatabi, Uchiha Sarada & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Original Male Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruko
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	Uchiha Complex

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt and premise of this story is obviously crack, but the actual story is relatively "sane" and as universe-compliant as possible. So, the full context of this AU/Timeline: 
> 
> After the war, Sasuke(16) spent a year and a half in jail. When Kakashi became the acting Hokage(after Kakashi Hiden), Sasuke(18) was pardoned and released from prison, beginning his journey of atonement in April. He traveled the world, visiting familiar places in order to make amends for the past, and provided aid to strangers and unknown villages when he found them in need. However, Sasuke didn’t merely explore the cultures of the Five Great Nations; he explored the women as well, until he married Sakura at age 22. Sarada was born when Sasuke was 23, and is 14 at the beginning of this, which starts in-between the end of the Ao arc and Jigen vs NaruSasu arc in the Boruto Manga. So, the Boruto manga events have been pushed back a few years.
> 
> (This was done because I don't want to write about underage Sasuke & Itachi fathering kids with underage, undisclosed baby mamas. Even if its only implied/referenced to.) 
> 
> Final notes: all art is by me, and there will be more. < > tags are used for incoming telepathic speech - I picked up this format from Hounded, by Kevin Hearne

**_“I hate when I’m on a flight and I wake up with a water bottle next to me like oh great now I gotta be responsible for this water bottle.”_ **

\- Kanye West

* * *

**Foreword**

Many years later, when the Inevitable arrived with a gentle knock on the door and she faced him for the last time, Sarada Uchiha would remember that distant afternoon on which she first met her father. 

Not the version of her father whose gloved hand and impassive gaze steered her towards the Academy for her first day of General Studies. Or the version who looked down at her without an ounce of recognition while he drove his sword through the wall beside her cowering, terrified form. Neither was it the version of him that announced out of the blue his plans to stay in the village, promised to start training his “cute little peanut” for real, and then took on her teammate as a student instead.

Like it's predecessors, the version of Sasuke Uchiha - of _Papa_ \- that she would remember, did not have a particularly happy life. He endured tragedies, had his heart broken, made mistakes, and got lost on his own path more often than anyone ought to. There were many ‘almosts’ and ‘could-haves’, many important things missed, many ways in which he failed; times when love came at long last, but entirely too late. 

Unlike the earlier iterations, however, _this_ Papa did not ultimately choose to be alone. Instead of escaping under the guise of atonement, a futile race against the unknown, Sasuke acknowledged the present for what it was; he made up for what he could. Whether or not those efforts mattered would vary depending on who you asked, and despite those turnarounds some would hear his story and still think it sad. Sasuke, however, would not share that sentiment, and in his own way he would tell Sarada as much during their final conversation:

“The best things in my life were the people in the beginning....and the people at the very end.”

And while she did not witness Sasuke’s beginning or meet the long-dead people he'd shared it with, Sarada did know the people at the end. For they all possessed the same specific, inescapable, and unconscious node of beliefs; a 'complex', as her mother chose to call it. In fact, Sarada happened to meet the aforementioned commiserators and her father - the _truest_ version of him - on that same, distant afternoon...

  
  


* * *

**Chapter 1: The Boys**

  
  


**_Knock, knock, knock._ **

  
  


Sakura was beside herself when she went to answer the door for the sixteenth time that day. Before the newest visitor had the chance to speak she held up her hand and gestured towards the crowded living room. He took the hint, joining the rest of the entourage with a cat-like smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up. 

  
  


The unexpected, easy compliance was such a relief that Sakura’s mind failed to register the pair of ninneko trailing in behind him; a blatant violation of their ‘no animals, insects, or summons’ household rule, set in place due to her husband’s troublesome allergies. She sighed once the door shut and rested her forehead against its cold wooden surface, feeling various shades of confused, tired, and exasperated; none of which contributed to an appealing collage overall. (If Sakura’s emotions painted a picture, it would look like Akamaru’s puke stain after he’d eaten an ungodly amount of paint.)

  
  


Contrary to her mother, Sarada was delighted by the unanticipated company; never before had she been doted on by so many people at once. Sarada had woken up that morning to the same familial reality as usual: that she was an only child, whose father was elusive at best. Something Sakura lamented, aware of the fact that a singular child was not much in the way of restoring an entire clan. Her child-bearing regrets were now forgotten, though, replaced instead with some long-awaited insight regarding Sasuke’s unwillingness to have a second baby.

  
  


As it turned out, he’d dusted that milestone before they were even married, because Sarada was _not_ Sasuke Uchiha’s only child - she was his seventeenth. 

  
  


Indeed, Sakura’s once peaceful home was currently playing host to sixteen teenage boys, ages ranging from fifteen to eighteen, who all claimed that _her_ husband was their father. 

  
  


Shocking though it may seem, Sakura believed them...eventually. The group’s enamorment with Sarada might’ve been a contributor to said acceptance; hearing the glee in her daughter’s voice as she answered ceaseless questions from her adoring half-brothers, Sakura couldn’t help the fuzzy warmth that bloomed in her chest. Nara’s Impasse also supported their claims, being the simplest available explanation as to why they each possessed at least one sharingan. (Nara’s Impasse is a problem-solving principle based on the _jishōgi_ outcome in Shogi, courtesy of Shikamaru Nara, which states: “If an explanation cannot be rejected without exchanging facts for assumptions, said interpretation should be operated upon until sufficient counter evidence can be found.”) Additionally, they were preemptively green-lighted within the village’s chakra registry, as confirmed for her by Ino in a telepathic exchange earlier that day: 

  
  


<Hey Sakura,> she’d heard Ino exclaim while Sakura let in the eighth visitor. No matter how many times Sakura asked Ino to page her first when she wanted to chat, instead of invading her mind outright, the blonde’s perpetual noncompliance meant that Sakura lived under the constant threat of spontaneous brick-shitting. 

  
  


<You there? Forehead? Hellooo…>

  
  


Sakura squeezed in a few left-nostril breaths to collect herself before responding to the flamboyant clairvoyant. 

  
  


_Where else would I be if not in my own body, Ino._

  
  


<Good-day to you as well, sheesh. Are you OK?>

  
  


_I was fine until you almost scared the pink out of my hair._

  
  


<Sorry, sorry; this is just too important for the pager. Something is amiss.>

  
  


_Huh? What’s going on?_ Sakura’s mind started to race, conjuring up fears that another Kara member had shown up, or that a new plague was discovered. Not that one couldn’t argue in favor of Kara being a plague.

  
  


<Uh, you tell me, forehead. We’ve sensed like eight unusual chakra signatures showing up within the past hour, and I tracked them all to your house,> Ino began. 

  
  


The presence of many exceptional shinobi in Konoha at once was nothing out of the ordinary; it was an actual characteristic of the village’s population. Therefore, Ino’s inability to ignore the visitors implied that for whatever reason, they surpassed her expectations of typical jonin. 

  
  


_Unusual? Why do you say that?_

  
  


<Their bubbles were larger than average - in our water sphere, I mean - and one of them was particularly massive. Not like, Naruto-level ginormous, but enough to be an extreme outlier.>

  
  


_So you all decided to sit on your thumbs and let these potentially elite-level shinobi have at Sarada and I, then,_ Sakura shot back, her irritation getting the best of her. _I’m flattered._

  
  


<Hear me out, because that’s the thing: they aren’t strangers. Didn’t trip a single alarm in our psychic barrier, since all of them are registered in our database and cleared for visitation. But, their records are just placeholder names, and not one person in my entire division recognizes their chakra or remembers vetting them in the past,> Ino elaborated in her serious tone, which only came out whenever the blonde was genuinely bothered by something.

  
  


_Are you sure they didn’t just, you know, slip through the barrier somehow?_ The idea came to Sakura’s mind because, if her memory served correct, Itachi Uchiha had done a similar thing during their chunin exams; tangentially relevant information, considering the parentage of the visitors.

  
  


(Sakura did not know, at this time, that Itachi was able to bypass the sensing barrier due to simply knowing its formula.)

  
  


<Positive, otherwise we wouldn’t have detected them at all.>

  
  


_Oh. Right. Sorry, that was probably a bad question._

  
  


<Perhaps, forehead, but I admittedly asked myself the same thing at first. It’s not a crazy assumption to make, anyhow…>

  
  


Sensing a pause, Sakura chewed on the new information in silence and waited for her friend to continue. 

  
  


<That isn’t even the weirdest part, Sakura. I was about to page Naruto and ask him about it because, honestly, the lack of info ticked me off and I wasn’t sure what to do - like, what if an enemy mole forged their records?>

  
  


Sakura had to bite her tongue to refrain from pointing out the fact that Ino had the decency to page Naruto first about this “too important” event, and should theoretically be capable of affording her the same luxury. 

  
  


<Anyways,> Ino carried on, <legit as soon as I started reaching for my pager, Kakashi waltzed into my shop looking like his last fuck died before his dad’s balls ever dropped. As usual. But I digress; turns out, he wanted to have a serious conversation.>

  
  


If Sakura rolled her eyes any harder, she would have gone blind. _So what was it about?_

  
  


<He told me that he was aware of the situation, and that none of our sensors were to engage unless directly authorized by him. So I said that I didn’t recall Naruto dying and making him the god damned Hokage again- >

  
  


Sakura bit back a gasp before interrupting. _Ino, you can’t just say things like that!_

  
  


<Let go of your pearls, Sakura. Even if I put laxatives in Kakashi’s tea, he still wouldn’t give a shit. Besides, his response was that he didn’t recall the Barrier Team leader dying and being replaced by some bratty florist, either. Asshole.>

  
  


_I mean, you asked for that one._

  
  


<Semantics, Sakura. Anyways, Kakashi told me he was on his way to see Naruto about it and not to alert him. Some mumbo-jumbo about keeping it low-key until the relevant parties decided otherwise. Just what the hell is going on, Sakura?>

  
  


Sakura sighed. _I’ve got a house full of hot-blooded teens to attend to, that’s what-_

  
  


(Not to be misunderstood, Sakura’s use of hot-blooded in this instance described the quality of being quick to express emotion, or impetuous; not virile.)

  
  


<Eh? It's really just a bunch of….meddling kids, and not a gang or a secret society? How anticlimactic.>

  
  


That set her off. _Anticlimactic? Ha! Well you can thank Sasuke for that. Apparently he has the monopoly on all things ‘climactic’._

  
  


<Okay, wow, you’re using double entendres. This must be serious.>

  
  


_Seriously annoying, that’s for sure!_

  
  


<Hold tight for an hour or so. I’m bringing over some calming tea.>

  
  


_I don’t need any calming tea,_ Sakura fumed. _I just need_ **_the_ ** _tea! And Sasuke better hope that it's hot enough, or else-_

  
  


Unfortunately their conversation had been cut short by another knock at the door. The lucky individual who interrupted Sakura’s tirade was greeted by her subdued wrath, complete with the most unsuccessful attempt at a poker face that they’d ever seen. However, her rage was no match for the purple-haired stranger, and dissipated with a blink and a flash of two silver irises once their gazes met. (Sakura was so thoroughly disarmed that even knowing he had used a genjutsu, she didn’t protest the subtle hypnosis, or address the fact that his eyes had immediately returned to being black.) 

  
  


Ino never responded to the outburst, and Sakura eventually forgot about her unfinished rant altogether, continuing to mull over the new information instead. What Ino had revealed to Sakura implied that people higher up than themselves were aware that Sasuke’s plethora of supposed children existed, including Sakura’s old sensei. So, as disturbed as she was by the notion that Sasuke had more thoroughly explored the Five Great Nations than previously thought, Sakura couldn’t convince herself of it being a total impossibility. 

  
  


She’d let the first one in out of sheer curiosity, and after that the proverbial floodgates opened, unleashing a tidal wave of angst and testosterone. It was a miracle that all of Sakura’s marbles remained intact and accounted for. 

  
  


As she desperately tried to tune out the cacophony of noise behind her - a heated argument between several of the boys over who Sarada should award the ‘Nii-san’ title to - Sakura was startled out of her stupor by yet _another_ arrival. 

  
  


**_Rap-tap-tap-tap-tap._ **

  
  


Sakura perked up at the noise this time; it was novel according to her current level of sanity, at which psychoanalyzing the way someone knocked was both appropriate and necessary. Every single one of the boys who’d previously arrived knocked three times, with the exact same intensity and the exact same tempo, while using the entire front of their fist to produce a low, resonating sound. This new knock, however, was light and rapid: a firm, staccato peal created using only the knuckles, Sakura deduced. It was far too modest and lacking in force compared to the rest, and on that irrefutable basis could not come from their sibling. Opening the door with caution, she narrowed her eyes and sized up the young man standing on the other side. 

  
  


Much to her shock, he bowed in respect instead of incoherently rambling like an impatient toddler during show-and-tell - which is what many of the others had done - and after examining his body language while he stood upright to introduce himself, Sakura was resolute in her theory that this one was different.

  
  


“Please forgive my intrusion, Uchiha-sama-” he began, glancing behind her and wincing upon sight of the pandemonium in the living room “-I see that your hands are quite full already. My apologies for not arriving sooner to assist in this ordeal.”

  
  


Their eyes met, and Sakura was immediately struck by his appearance. Long, pin-straight black hair flowed down to the man’s waist, shimmering with health and tied back into a neat, low-hanging ponytail. Although his stature belied a hardened shinobi, his skin was smooth and unmarred by adversity; a covet-able trait within the profession. The only indication of hardship came from two faint, shallow stress-lines underneath his amber eyes; unnoticed by Sakura until they crinkled handsomely in tune with the kind, reassuring smile he gave her. Due perhaps in part to the slight androgyny of his features, he also had an approachable and charming presence - a rarity for any Uchiha - that was further accentuated by his understated, business-casual attire. 

  
  


Considering his age, which she guessed to be in the early-to-mid twenties range, Sakura knew there was no chance in hell that this individual was Sasuke’s kid. With the wheels of investigation churning in her mind, Sakura soon realized that if not for his eye color he would be a dead-ringer for someone she’d only met once, and in an alternate universe no less. A sharp breeze blew past them then, punctuated by the sound of a twig snapping somewhere in the distance.

  
  


“I knew it,” Sakura smirked. “Genjutsu of this level doesn’t work on me anymore.”

  
  


“Come again?” The man asked, confusion slighting his calm expression.

  
  


“No wonder I fell out of bed this morning...today was cursed from the start.”

  
  


The man frowned. “I’m...sorry to hear that. I hope there were no injuries.”

  
  


“Well, there _was_ one casualty but it was just the nightstand,” she muttered. “Listen. I’m trapped in a partial Tsukuyomi - it’s happened once before, when I was fifteen, that’s how I know - and I need you to help me make the rat sign so I can go back to my universe. You’re Uchiha Itachi, right?”

  
  


“Actually I’m his son, Shisui,” the man said. “I’m here on behalf of my cousins...who I believe you’ve already been acquainted with. I’m their attorney.”

  
  


Even though he understood what the Tsukuyomi was, and that what Sakura had just suggested to him was possible in theory, Shisui was still thrown off by the strange shift in behavior. (Nothing about the social situation was going the way it had when he acted it out in the shower that morning.)

  
  


“Itachi has a personable, sagacious son?” Sakura chuckled. _“My ass.”_

  
  


Shisui clenched his fists, torn between amusement and offense but ultimately settling on neither; perhaps she was right about today being cursed. He glanced back and forth between Sakura’s outstretched hand and the intense look on her face, analyzing the state of affairs. 

  
  


The woman was obviously in distress and bordering on delirium, which led Shisui to wonder if his cousins had gone and done something other than merely announcing their existence to cause such a reaction. That thought brought him a great deal of concern. Since Shisui did not want to make matters worse, he conceded to the woman’s request and joined his hand with hers.

  
  


Silence fell over the two of them, and a heavy chill hung in the air. (It was October, after all.) Throughout their exchange, Sakura had been rubbing her bare arms; a sign of anxiety, and a reminder that her inadequate attire only served to compound emotional turmoil with physical discomfort.

  
  


“Release!” Sakura commanded, interrupting their chakra flows with enough vigor to make Shisui’s heart skip a beat.

  
  


Nothing happened.

  
  


Her mouth fell open, eyes bugging out so far that if someone decided to smack Sakura on the head right then, they might literally fall out. Sakura had contained herself all afternoon, and was finally at her limit. For the second time that day, she was _floored_ ; but in this case it wasn’t due to afterglow-induced clumsiness.

  
  


So it wasn't genjutsu, then, Sakura concluded. This was her actual life. 

  
  


Not only had her husband been an evidently prolific breeder during his ‘journey of atonement’, but his criminally insane brother had _also_ managed to pop a bun in somebody’s oven before his death. If first impressions were any indication, then Itachi’s son was - ironically - the most well-rounded and composed among the bunch, too.

  
  


Awash with gloom, Sakura resigned to her fate.

  
  


“Uchiha-sama, are you feeling unwell?” Shisui asked. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

  
  


“Ah, yes, I’m fine. Sorry about all that,” Sakura replied, shivering when she realized how cold she felt. “Please, come in.”

  
  


Once they were both safe inside the warm foyer, she grabbed onto Shisui’s sleeve and gently tugged the taller man down towards her to whisper.

  
  


“Let’s just forget about the whole Tsukuyomi thing. Pardon my honesty, but you all are really putting my wits to the test right now.” 

  
  


Shisui was no stranger to sympathy, and agreed they should forget. “That is understandable; no need to apologize, not under such duress. I can at least assure you that we’ve all arrived, so there won’t be any more surprises on that front.”

  
  


Upon hearing those assurances, Sakura barely managed to stop herself from flat-out moaning in relief. She was about to thank Shisui when a loud shout pierced through the incessant background chatter.

  
  


“Yo, Shitsui finally showed up!” 

  
  


A dark curtain fell over Shisui’s face as he turned towards the speaker, eyes glowing a ferocious shade of red with what Sakura recognized as the Mangekyou Sharingan. The change was so drastic that for a moment she thought an entirely new consciousness had overtaken the man. Sakura’s awareness of what was required to awaken such a dojutsu did nothing to soothe her mounting unease. 

  
  


“Simmer down, you flock of idjits!” he barked. “You are jonin - there is no excuse for such rambunctious conduct and inconsiderate behavior. What would your mothers think if they witnessed your actions today?”

  
  


Most of the group quieted down, either staring at Shisui like frightened deer or simply looking like it was an ordinary Friday and they’d rather be anywhere else; except for one, set apart by his wild black-cherry hair and an evident inability to hold his tongue. 

  
  


“If my egg donor gave a fuck she would have come here herself, who cares what-” 

  
  


The boy’s jaw snapped shut when Shisui flickered out of sight and reappeared directly in front of his scowling face. Unlike Sakura, who jumped back in fright when the man beside her disappeared, the redhead managed to confine his own fright to the movements of a single twitching eye. The older Uchiha stared down at him with one hand hovering near the opening in his own shirt pocket - an odd gesture, but an apparent threat to the boy - until he broke. 

  
  


“Chill out Shisui, it was a joke,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze to try and intimidate the floorboards instead. 

  
  


“Oh, that was a joke?” Shisui asked. “Well, I regret to inform you that your humor was dead on impact. Luckily, there’s still time to save your-”

  
  


“Alright! Sorry, or whatever,” the boy hissed. “Keep your card tricks to yourself, you clown.”

  
  


Shisui’s hand retreated from his pocket, falling back to his side as the malevolent aura dissipated; another seamless transition that sent a shiver of fear down Sakura’s spine. (Tales of Sasuke’s lunatic older brother bubbled up from her subconscious, and she wondered what could possibly be hiding in that unassuming shirt pocket.) Thankfully the display hadn’t frightened Sarada at all, who was quite perceptive and mature for a fourteen year-old. Rather, her daughter stared at Shisui like he had just announced his selection as the next Hokage. Sarada, like herself, was a rule follower; Sakura could only hope that Sarada didn’t inherit her bad-boy streak as well. 

  
  


“Alrighty then,” Shisui began again with a smile, “you’re all going to apologize to Uchiha-sama and introduce yourselves properly. Chisuke, why don’t you start us off?” 

  
  


At Shisui’s behest, the oldest of the group reluctantly pushed himself off of the wall to face their host. He looked exactly the same as Sasuke had at eighteen, and even dressed in a similar but more contemporary style, causing Sakura quite the shock whenever he first showed up. 

  
  


“My name is Uchiha Chisuke. I’m 18 years old. My training occurred in Otogakure, so I am technically an Oto-nin, and I am not married. I work as a contract-jonin for...other hidden villages, and there is no espionage involved whatsoever. None. I don’t drink, but I occasionally smoke. I make sure I get no more than 5 hours of sleep to maximize my working hours, no matter what,” he rambled on.

  
  


Otogakure - the word ruminated in Sakura’s mind. That was Orochimaru’s village, was it not? Did he know, then? What about Karin, Jugo, Suigetsu, and Captain Yamato? By that point, she was too intrigued to interrupt for clarification.

  
  


“After having a cold glass of Bijuu Blast and jogging for 20 minutes every morning, I have no problems exerting myself - physically, intellectually, or otherwise - and operating at the maximum extent of my capabilities for the next 18 hours without stopping,” he continued.

  
  


“Chisuke, please.” Shisui knew that the monologue’s purpose was defiant in nature, not informative. 

  
  


“I’m sorry for the disturbance myself and my brothers have caused, Uchiha-sama.” Chisuke shifted his tone, bowing in apology. 

  
  


Sakura chuckled nervously. “Really, it’s alright. Nothing out of the ordinary for your age group. And you all can just call me Sakura - or Dr. Haruno if that’s too casual - but I appreciate the formalities.”

  
  


Chisuke took a seat, and Shisui nodded at the next boy in the hypothetical queue - the redhead with the particularly vulgar mouth - urging him to get on with it. Standing up, the boy cut a glance towards his older cousin, rolled his eyes, and addressed Sakura in an emotionless voice. 

  
  


“Uchiha Nisuke. I’m great at most things, and an expert at two: taking a shit and taking the piss. And I’ve already done one of those things today.”

  
  


Gasping, Sakura’s hand flew to her mouth. Several of the younger boys snickered in reaction to Nisuke’s crude proclamation; Sarada started to giggle too when Shisui’s hand shot out and grabbed Nisuke’s ponytail, yanking him back down into his seat: a beloved, pink-velvet ottoman that Sakura feared would not survive until the day’s end. Nisuke yelped in pain, rubbing his sore scalp and muttering angrily to no one in particular. 

  
  


“Stupid as hell. Literally why. Serves no real purpose,” he said, presumably regarding them having to introduce themselves as though it were the first day of school.

  
  


“Not the time to start your autobiography, champ,” Chisuke said, thumping him on the forehead. 

  
  


“Screw you, Chisuke,” Nisuke retorted, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll k-”

  
  


“Shut up, you shit for brains,” the next boy demanded, cutting him off before turning towards Sakura with an innocent smile. “Uchiha Sansuke. Please ignore Nisuke, Dr. Haruno. He was born with a severe case of Inflated Lat Syndrome.” 

  
  


Frowning, Sakura pursed her lips. She hadn’t ever heard of such a disease. “Is that a genetic disorder?”

  
  


“Hmph. You could say that.” 

  
  


“I put on 9kg last summer. What did you do, Barnacle Boy?” Nisuke said, puffing out his chest.

  
  


“Well, _Milksop_ , I didn’t have to overcompensate for anything - that’s for sure.”

  
  


Jumping out of his seat, Nisuke grabbed the front of Sansuke’s shirt, the former’s sharingan flaring to life. Sakura began to feel nervous when she noticed that he, too, possessed the Mangekyou Sharingan. What had these boys been through in order to acquire such a thing during peacetime - not that geopolitical peace meant that crime or tragedy ceased as well - and how powerful were they really? At the rate things were going, Sakura suspected she’d find out soon enough. 

  
  


She just hoped that the ‘particularly massive bubble’ Ino mentioned earlier wasn’t the volatile redhead in front of her.

  
  


“Your ass is about to be overcompensating,” Nisuke seethed. 

  
  


Nisuke’s anger was so immense that chakra of a dark, cerulean hue began to seep out through his skin. Watching with trepidation as small patches of his skin began to burn and peel from its intensity, Sakura was reminded of a juvenile Naruto being overcome by Kurama’s hatred; but Nisuke wasn’t under the influence of a tailed beast, only his own emotions, and that bothered her psychiatrist brain. A lot.

  
  


“I don’t think you realize how vile that sounded-” Sansuke replied, absentmindedly swatting away tendrils of the foreign chakra like they were gnats, “-so I’m going to pretend that it didn’t make sense.”

  
  


“I’ll make your ass sense.”

  
  


“Good grief, you really are disturbed. Please never talk about my ass when you’re leaking. Or in general. Anyhow, Shisui is about to rock your shit. Sleep well, fucker.” 

  
  


The redhead didn’t have time to vocalize his confusion before, as Sansuke foretold, Shisui’s fingertips bore down on the pressure point adjacent to his Adam's apple. The spot, which Sakura knew as the carotid sinus, was a quick and efficient way of knocking an individual out - and that is exactly what happened. She watched Nisuke go limp and begin to fall, worrying for a moment despite herself that he might hit his head on the way down. However, Shisui’s anger did not cloud his humanity; he caught hold of the boy, carrying him behind the crowded sofa and gently laying him down on the wooden floor. 

  
  


“Is he going to be alright?” Sakura asked, scanning her eyes over the raw patches of skin on Nisuke’s face and neck - leading her to notice a mass of cicatrices covering the left half of his neck and shoulder.

  
  


It looked like he had been struck by lightning, from which Sakura had seen the resultant scarring only a few times in person. Curious as she was, however, she knew it was not the proper time to ask.

  
  


“He will heal on his own within the hour,” Shisui said, face hidden from her view.

  
  


When Shisui did raise his head towards her, his cheeks were flushed with a mixture of fury and shame. He looked at Sakura, clearly struggling to form a grand enough apology for the violent escalation, but she just laughed and told him to forget about it. 

  
  


“Just don’t burn my house down...or else I actually will be mad,” Sakura added. 

  
  


Perhaps she _should_ have been furious already, but what was the point? It would only make the situation worse for herself. She was already struggling to fight off another spell of delirium, anyways. It only occurred to her then that maybe she ought not to have her young daughter in the middle of a gaggle of unpredictable and potentially thuggish teens...but even if she didn’t know them well, her gut feeling was that they wouldn’t even dream of harming Sarada. Shisui would probably never allow it, either. 

  
  


With Nisuke down for the count, the introductions moved along much faster and without any more fighting or death threats. By the time they reached the ninth child - Nasuke, the calm, purple-haired one with the pleasant genjutsu - Sakura began to notice a pattern with the boys’ names. She didn’t want to point it out without confirmation, though, deciding to wait and question their father about the matter first.

  
  


Sasuke would be home soon, and Sakura hoped he would at least remember to stop by the grocery store on his way back. While not near enough to feed this crowd, _some_ food was preferable to a fridge well-stocked with nothing.

  
  


The room fell quiet once they finished, and Sakura took the opportunity to collect herself before giving a little spiel of her own. 

  
  


“Well, I’m sure you know already, but I am Doctor Uchiha Sakura, Sasuke’s wife and Sarada’s mother,” she said, using her hands to smooth out the apron she’d yet to take off since that morning. “My professional career began while I was unmarried, which is why I still go by Dr. Haruno. I run a clinic here in Konoha that specializes in children’s mental health. It is...nice to meet you all.”

  
  


Judging by the looks on the boys’ faces, which ranged from surprised to flabbergasted, they had not expected her to be a Kunoichi _or_ a pediatric psychiatrist. Meaning that they assumed she was a _civilian_ physician. Sakura’s inner voice screeched in outrage, but she knew better than to let some ignorant young men offend her. It seemed that Shisui picked up on this reaction; his observation skills were impressive, to say the least. Then again, he was already a lawyer at such a young age, and the alleged son of Itachi Uchiha, so his advanced perception hardly came as a surprise. 

  
  


“I’d like to thank you again on behalf of our group for allowing us into your home, and for continuing to answer the door after the first few,” Shisui said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. 

  
  


If anyone had done so before, there was no longer any reason to doubt that Sakura Uchiha had a soft spot for children. Regardless of the circumstances, their less than desirable behavior, or anything she was feeling towards their father about it all, at the end of the day the sixteen boys in front of her were _just kids_. Granted, a few of them were close to adulthood and Chisuke was legally an adult at 18, but Sakura was well-versed in developmental psychology. Laws had no bearing on the brain’s development, so as far as she was concerned every single one of them was an adolescent. 

  
  


Hell, even Shisui might have qualified as an adolescent in her mind, if not for her knowledge that the Mangekyou Sharingan could hasten or delay frontal lobe development depending on a multitude of factors. So, it was likely that Shisui’s brain was near being - if not completely - fully-developed already; because of this, Sakura was half-tempted to ask if he’d be willing to undergo a series of brain scans and neurological assessments to aid her research in that area.

  
  


It suddenly struck her what a blessing this all could be, medically speaking; Sakura had only been able to study Sasuke’s dojutsu, or occasionally convince Sarada to do a CT scan. Which caused Sakura great distress at times, fearing the possibility that she would be unable to find any kind of cure or preventative measure to remedy the sharingan’s health consequences for her daughter. Sasuke’s Eternal Mangekyou meant that she couldn’t study the disease itself, either, only look for whatever caused him _not_ to have it. There just weren’t any other Uchiha to study, period. 

  
  


Until now.

  
  


Research possibilities aside, though, Sakura couldn’t deny that she felt some degree of a connection with these kids due to their relation to her husband, and by extension to her own daughter. She may have issues with Sasuke, but she couldn’t resent them _or_ their mothers for any valid reason, tempting as it was; they had all been conceived years before she and Sasuke even got together. So, if there was anyone to be angry with, it was Sasuke, not his abandoned children or ex-lovers. And she _was_ pissed at him - on behalf of his kids, Sarada included. He had scarcely been around for her until the past year or so - during which there was a marginal improvement - and Sakura imagined these boys saw even less of him throughout their lives. Assuming they’d met him at all. 

  
  


In fact, she _knew_ that had to be the case. If Sasuke hadn’t been diligently tracked by their intelligence division - not to mention by _Naruto_ \- every time he left the village, then Sakura might’ve jumped to the conclusion that he’d been out with ‘other families’ over the years. But every second he spent away was accounted for, so unless the boys grew up in uninhabitable areas, old ruins, enemy hideouts, and other such places, then there was a good chance none or only a few of them had encountered their father alive and in the flesh. 

  
  


Did Sasuke even know that they existed? She let her gaze travel over their faces once more: Chisuke, 18; Nisuke, who’s age she didn’t know, but he was likely nearing 18 as well; Sansuke, the twins Shisuke & Yosuke, and the twins Gosuke & Itsuke, all 17; Rosuke, Nasuke, Hasuke, Kusuke, Jusuke, and Ryusuke, aged 16; and the triplets Zesuke, Masuke, & Reisuke were the youngest at age 15. The trio also shared the same birthday as Sasuke, or so they said. 

  
  


And of course, there was Shisui. Itachi would have been 19 when he was born. 

  
  


Did Sasuke know that _Itachi_ had a child?

  
  


The boys all bore a resemblance to Sasuke - some more than others, of course - but much to Sakura’s surprise, a majority of the group had rather striking and unique appearances in spite of their dominant Uchiha genes. 

  
  


First to draw her intrigue was Nisuke, whose wild hair had a darkened crimson hue that was _almost_ familiar to Sakura, heterochromia which afforded a distinct red-violet color to his right iris, and who bore an uncanny resemblance to Madara Uchiha of all people. Sansuke was pale even by the clan’s standards, had dark magenta eyes, and gave Sakura a small fright the first time he flashed his shark-toothed smile at her. Then there were Itsuke and Gosuke with their catlike features, tanned complexions, and emerald eyes. 

  
  


Shisuke and Yosuke were notably brawnier than the rest, an odd contrast to their gentle and soft-spoken demeanor; Shisuke had ginger hair, a scar cutting across his nose, and a feather ornament dangling from one ear; Yosuke had ginger eyes, black hair, and like Sarada he wore glasses. A cruel irony for an Uchiha. Rosuke was going through an experimental phase, as evidenced by a septum piercing, some admittedly impeccable eye makeup, and the assortment of jewelry decorating his form. Also standing out from the bunch was Nasuke with his long, purple hair and his thousand-yard stare that rivaled her old sensei’s chronically disinterested expression. 

  
  


The triplets were, as far as appearances went, the most distinguishable from stereotypical Uchiha. Their violet gazes, blonde-streaked hair, and what Sakura guessed to be tattooed face markings, were highly unusual. Furthermore, their cheeky and exuberant personalities set them apart from even the most rambunctious within the bunch, and Sakura found herself wondering what their mother must be like in order to _completely_ obliterate the clan’s potent, hereditary introversion. In fact, Ryusuke was the only boy in the entire group whose parentage Sakura was certain of - even though she’d not seen the woman for at least two decades, his eyes were a dead giveaway.

  
  


What really caught Sakura’s attention though, was the fact that regardless of the triplets’ bubbly extroversion, she failed to prevent herself from feeling unnerved by their presence. Vague as it might’ve been, something about those three was just... _abnormal_ , going so far as to prod at Sakura’s primal sense of fear.

  
  


But Sakura refused to tarnish her dignity by indulging such miniscule suspicions and labeling a litter of 15 year olds as a threat. So, she chalked it up to their uncharacteristic expressiveness instead, and went right back to being comfortably numb.

  
  


“So...where did you all grow up?” Sakura asked, unable to withhold her curiosity. 

  
  


“Most of them lived wherever their mother’s family was, initially. Kaasan - my Mother, I mean - arranged for each of them to move to Ryūtan City once they were old enough to begin school. If they wanted to, of course. We actually have a sort of family compound in the city, now,” Shisui answered. 

  
  


“More like a family slum,” Rosuke mumbled. 

  
  


“Having to share your bathroom does not make it a slum, Rosuke,” Shisui quipped, sighing ruefully. “Some of them come from rather affluent families, believe it or not. Tou-san - Itachi - left quite a sum for my mother and I, thanks to his, ah... _profession_. However, when stretched over so many people, it does not compare to certain luxuries.”

  
  


Sakura’s heart clenched. She knew for a fact that Sasuke had never been to Ryūtan, and ‘tou-san’ was a familiar enough term that Shisui must have had a genuine bond with Itachi before his death. Sasuke had spoken of Itachi only once to her, but spoke of him rather highly; Sakura silently disagreed, but perhaps she had been too cut and dry - too clinical, even - in her assessment of his character. With the exception of Ino, Sakura knew better than anyone else in the village how complex the human psyche was. 

  
  


Then again, his use of ‘tou-san’ could be a learned behavior; not necessarily one born from endearment.

  
  


“He’s trying to be humble, but all of them had a privileged upbringing,” Chisuke interrupted. “The only ‘poverty’ they experienced was of an emotional nature.” 

  
  


There was a twinge of bitterness in his tone, but it was not at all directed towards Sakura, Shisui, or his siblings. 

  
  


“Yeah, but Rosuke still belongs to the streets,” Itsuke jeered. 

  
  


Many of the boys laughed while Rosuke - whose temperament was calmer than some others - huffed and rolled his eyes. Sakura hadn’t a clue as to what the joke actually meant. 

  
  


“Whatever Itsuke,” Rosuke said. “At least I’m not a simp for that Ashina chick on TV. Who _staged her_ _own kidnapping and ransom_.” 

  
  


“What can I say, I don’t got no type,” Itsuke replied, beginning to sing; though not at all well. “Bad bitches is the only thing that I like…”

  
  


Rosuke, Chisuke, and Sansuke groaned in annoyance, while Shisui glared daggers at Itsuke and brought his performance to a stop. An end that couldn’t have come fast enough. They were all fans of KillerBRaps’ music, unless Itsuke was the one singing it. Sarada perked up at the mention of Ashina, pretending not to mind the degrading lyrics, her eyes alight with excitement and pride.

  
  


“Hey, I’ve met Ashina before! I was on the team assigned to guard her and Tomaru-san. My friend Chocho saved her life...and then we had to arrest her. She was kind of a b- I mean, a jerk. You might have a real chance with her, Itsuke.” 

  
  


The boys erupted into a chorus of mocking noises, turning towards Itsuke and slinging taunts at him while Sarada made the rounds collecting hive-fives and fist-bumps. Sakura couldn’t help but giggle at the scene; Sarada was radiating with contagious joy, and actually seemed...content _._

  
  


Nisuke chose that moment to regain consciousness - perhaps the sudden increase in volume had roused him - and sprung up behind the sofa, wincing as he palmed the front of his neck. 

  
  


“Shitsui, you asswipe. I’ll deal with you later,” Nisuke mumbled before raising his voice to an audible volume. “Did Sarada arrest Itsuke’s imaginary girlfriend, call her a bitch, and then call him a bitch too? Or was I dreaming?”

  
  


“Nope,” Chisuke laughed, “you heard correct, for once.”

  
  


“Yeah, guess something in that empty head of yours is working right,” Sansuke added. “That reminds me - hold your hand in front of your face, Nisuke.”

  
  


“What? Why?” Nisuke scrunched his nose, reflexively starting to raise his hand.

  
  


“So we can make sure you don’t have a concussion. Trust me, just do it.”

  
  


“I didn’t even hit my-” Nisuke barely managed to move his hand away before Sansuke could smack it into his nose “-dammit. Fuck off, Sansuke. My father didn’t raise a fool!”

  
  
  


Sakura couldn’t help the giggle that escaped from her throat; it was one of the oldest tricks in the book, and one Naruto had frequently fallen victim to in their youth. Largely because the blonde fool would do almost anything Sasuke had asked of him; she got the sense that Nisuke and Sansuke were similarly close. 

  
  


“He didn’t raise you, period,” Sansuke guffawed. “Do you hear yourself, like, when you speak?”

  
  


“Shut the hell up, he didn’t raise _you_ either, you know!”

  
  


“He didn’t raise any of us,” Nasuke quietly pointed out. 

  
  


“Anyways,” Nisuke continued dropping the subject. “I was _going to say_ that it looks like Salad is a little badass.”

  
  


Sarada grinned - unbothered by the transliteration of her name - and reached over to join Nisuke in performing some weird handshake that was unnecessarily complicated. Sakura stopped trying to follow along with their game of interpretive patty-cake after it reached the thirty second mark. When had those two even had time to learn that? It certainly would require an excellent working-memory; maybe Nisuke wasn’t such a meathead.

  
  


“I bet your dad made sure to train you well, yeah?” Nisuke asked when the ritual clapping concluded. (After nearly a minute.)

  
  


Sakura cringed, opening her mouth to try and beat Sarada to the punch before things got awkward. Unfortunately, she was too slow. 

  
  


“Oh, right. Well...I just worked super hard on my own,” Sarada said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Papa isn’t usually around to train me - well, he helped with my shuriken training a few times - he actually mentors my teammate, Boruto. His dad is Uzumaki Naruto, the Hokage! I’m sure you’ve heard of him, he’s totally a hero. I’m going to be the Hokage, too, when he retires; that’s my dream. But anyways, my teammates also helped me become strong, of course, and my sensei. Ah, I bet you guys would like Konohamaru-sensei!” 

  
  


In line with Sakura’s fears, Nisuke’s aura darkened as soon as Sarada began to explain the situation. By the time she finished speaking, it was outright malevolent. As the geometric design of his mangekyou sharingan spun into view, Nisuke attempted to contain himself for Sarada’s sake. His chakra grew more and more sinister with each passing moment, however, making the hairs on Sakura’s arms raise. 

  
  


The energy was virulent and overpowering; Sakura had the sinking realization that indeed, _he_ _was the anomaly Ino had mentioned._

  
  


“Someone’s coming,” Nisuke growled.

  
  


Unsure if and how to intervene, Sakura fisted the hem of her tunic and silently begged her exhausted brain to think of something. She noticed Chisuke and Sansuke glance warily at Shisui, who was also clearly debating what to do; but before anyone could act, the doorknob began to jiggle. 

  
  


“Oh god, oh fuck, Nisuke’s gonna- he’s about to go medieval on our asses,” Gosuke said in a panicked whisper. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here on his birthday.” 

  
  


Sakura didn’t miss that implication, but she was too wrapped up in her own premonitions of doom to dwell on the unfortunate circumstances of this birthday party. Hyper-fixated on the front door, she held her breath for what might’ve been the longest six seconds of her life. No sooner had it opened than Sasuke snatched Sarada from the living room, depositing her in the foyer with Sakura before standing in front of them both, his sword drawn protectively. 

  
  


“Who the hell are you guys?” Sasuke growled.

* * *

ooo

ooo


End file.
